


Room 214

by amethystfox, ayerlind



Series: Any Port In A Storm [2]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Anxiety, But in a sweet way this time, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Insomnia, Late Night Conversations, Misunderstandings, Paulo Gazzaniga likes to pull hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:28:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22803331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amethystfox/pseuds/amethystfox, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayerlind/pseuds/ayerlind
Summary: In room 214, the storm wakes Paulo up, but he discovers he's not the only one awake.
Relationships: Paulo Gazzaniga & Dele Alli
Series: Any Port In A Storm [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1638730
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	Room 214

_ Boom.  _

Paulo came awake with a start, his heart racing. For a moment he almost couldn't place the sound that had woken him. His first thought was some kind of explosion. Had he been dreaming? He blinked his eyes uncertainly, taking in the near-total darkness of an unfamiliar room.

A second later he had to squint them shut again when a brilliant flash of light filled the room.  _ Oh, _ he thought absently.  _ It's just the storm. _ He had noticed a mention of it in his news feed last night before he had fallen asleep.

He rolled over into his stomach, intending to put the pillow over his head and go back to sleep, but the change of position made him notice that his bladder was completely full. With a sigh he heaved himself from the too-small hotel bed and padded his way silently to the bathroom, passing the other bed in their double room, where Hugo and Kyle were still asleep. Another flash of lightning briefly illuminated the room, showing the tiny defender stretched out full length, ear buds still in, and the French captain curled up in a remarkably small ball, his black sleep mask slightly askew.

Paulo smiled briefly at the absurd sight the two of them made and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him.

When he emerged again, he was prepared to make his way back to the bed in the near-darkness by feel. To his surprise, there was a faint light coming from his bed, mostly dimmed by the duvet but unmistakable.

Paulo yawned as he made his way back to the bed and pulled the covers back. "Dele?" he rumbled quietly.

Dele blinked, his eyes trying to adjust from the brightness of his phone screen to the darkness of the room as he squinted at Paulo. "Sorry," he whispered. "Did I wake you, or was it the storm?"

"Storm," Paulo grunted as he slid back into bed. "You?"

Dele's face twisted wryly. "Neither." He glanced back down at his screen for a moment, then locked it, leaving Paulo staring at darkness.

"Sorry," Dele said again. "Haven't been able to get to sleep."

Paulo frowned. "At all?"

"Nah." Paulo felt the mattress shift as Dele shrugged. "I have trouble sleeping every now and then. No big deal."

"Yes, big deal," Paulo replied. "You cannot play if you don't have sleep."

Dele made a disgusted noise. "Know that, thanks."

Paulo fought down a surge of irritation. He often found himself feeling impatient with the young Englishman; he just didn't understand Dele's attitude. He had had a seemingly charmed career so far, but he always seemed somehow bored by it all. He was always the first to make a joke at someone else's expense, and, well… he just came off as self-centered. Paulo knew that wasn't exactly uncommon for a footballer who had gotten as successful as quickly as Dele had, but it still grated on Paulo.

He shrugged now. "Suit yourself," he muttered, rolling away from his bedmate.

They lay in silence for several minutes, Paulo trying to control his irritation enough to be able to relax and get back to sleep.  _ Last thing I need is to lose sleep over this mocoso, _ he thought.

The storm, however, had other ideas. Every time he began to let go and let his eyelids droop shut, another peal of thunder would echo outside the hotel, and lightning would flash through the gap in the curtains.

After the third or fourth time he was jolted out of his half-doze by the lightning flash, he noticed that the room stayed slightly illuminated even after the flash had faded. He guessed that Dele had gotten his phone out again. He lay still, listening, but the room was silent, apart from the sounds of the storm and Kyle's light snores.

Finally he sighed. "Why?" 

"Why what?"

"Why you can't sleep?"

"Eh… it's just…" Dele fell silent for a minute. "Never mind."

Paulo frowned and rolled over. Dele's face was dimly visible by the light of his phone screen, but he was studiously avoiding looking in Paulo's direction.

"Dele?" Paulo prompted.

"Don't worry about it, yeah?"

Paulo sighed. It was so tempting to take him at his word, dig his earplugs out, and get back to sleep. But something in Dele's voice made him resist that urge.

He lay silently for a minute, thinking. Finally he spoke up again. "I had this problem when I first come to England."

"Huh?" Dele looked up over his phone screen, his voice bemused.

"I had troubles with sleeping when I first moved here," Paulo repeated. "At first I thought I was just missing home, or... I don't know. I worried I was crazy."

Dele snorted. "Just cause you couldn't sleep?"

Paulo counted to ten, unclenched his teeth, and answered. "Yes. I never had problem with sleeping before. I was sure something was wrong." 

"And? Was anything wrong?"

"Nothing that was not made better by talking about it," he said simply.

Dele was quiet for a long time after that. Paulo fell into another restless doze, but the constant interruption of the storm kept him from actually drifting off.

He had almost forgotten about Dele when the young midfielder spoke up again. "I don't really know, okay?"

"Hm?" Paulo jerked awake again, just ahead of another thunderclap. Dele had set his phone down between them, the faint glow from the screen just enough for them to see each other.

"Why I can't sleep. I don't know exactly what it is. It's not even all the time. Just… sometimes, my mind won't settle." The mattress jiggled as Dele shrugged again.

"What are you thinking of, when this happens?"

"Different things. Sometimes it's just about football, you know, fretting about the next match or whatever."

Paulo made a quiet noise of agreement in his throat, then waited.

"Sometimes… I dunno. Sometimes I just get down on myself. Y'know how that is."

Paulo wrinkled his brow. "Why do you get… down on yourself?" he asked, not sure if he had quite followed the vernacular.

Dele chewed on his lip. "You know… remembering all the times I've fucked up. Worrying nobody can stand me. Kicking myself for being such an asshole. That kind of thing."

Paulo was stunned. Dele actually cared what people thought of him? He remembered, with a flash of guilt, his own uncharitable thoughts about Dele only minutes ago. He had the uneasy feeling that Dele had somehow been able to hear his thoughts.

He tried to keep his voice neutral when he replied. "I think we all feel this way sometime, no? It doesn't mean it is true."

Dele snorted. "Sure. I can just see you lying awake at night trying to convince yourself that you have friends."

Paulo bit back his automatic response to the sarcasm in Dele's voice and tried to answer calmly. "Maybe not exactly this, but I have times I feel bad things about myself. Everyone does, no?"

Dele sighed and rolled onto his back. "You just don't get it, mate," he said, his voice rising a little in his frustration. Next to them, Hugo moved slightly and mumbled something in his sleep.

"Shh," Paulo hissed. They both froze until Hugo had settled again.

"How is it he can sleep through  _ this,"  _ Dele nodded towards the window, which was still being lashed with rain, "but he's about to wake up from a bit of chat?" Still, his voice was pitched lower now.

Paulo shrugged. "He is a father. He is used to listening for whisperings from naughty children."

To his delight, this actually made Dele giggle out loud, clapping a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound before Hugo could react to it. Paulo couldn't help but grin. He had never seen Dele like this before, vulnerable and genuine.

Once Dele subsided, Paulo went back to the subject at hand. "Anyway, why could you think you do not have friends? You are always with friends, no?"

Dele sighed. "I dunno, mate. I'm just never sure if they like me as much as I like them."

Paulo rolled his eyes. "Eh, you serious? With the way Dier look at you? The way Winksy and Kyle always are near you? Come on."

Dele laughed softly at that. "Yeah, I guess. I never said it was rational."

"This is how anxiety is, no? It tell us lies." Instinctively he reached over, taking a grip on Dele's fuzzy hair and giving his head a gentle shake. "You need to not listen. Listen to people who love you instead." He let go and let his hand fall back by his side.

Dele was silent for a long time after that. His phone had long since automatically locked itself, so Paulo couldn't even tell if he was still awake.

Finally he spoke, just the softest whisper, on the edge of sleep. 

"Paulo?"

_ "Sí?" _

"Thanks."


End file.
